


Part I: Origins

by Oliver_do_the_twist



Series: The Outlaw Brooks [1]
Category: Historical Fiction, Original Work
Genre: Bandits and Outlaws, Betrayal, Brothers, Character Death, Colorado, Coming of Age, Country and Western, Dealing With Loss, First of a series, Gen, Growing Up, Minor Violence, Old West, Original Characters - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, Wild West, american railroad, growing up on the streets, historical fiction - Freeform, stealing to survive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver_do_the_twist/pseuds/Oliver_do_the_twist
Summary: How does one find their way in a world that doesn't care about them? As civilization sweeps through the American West, savagery only becomes more prevalent in the rich elite. While the people who made this country suffer under their greed. Jim Becker was born the son of a whore and wealthy mine owner in 1850’s America. He is unwanted, unloved, and entirely on his own in this brutal civilization. That is until one day he comes across someone who would change the course of his life forever.
Relationships: Jim Becker & Charles Bennett, Original Male Character & Original Male Character
Series: The Outlaw Brooks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981831
Comments: 11
Kudos: 6





	1. Bad Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> It's the beginning of an era. This series has been about a year of my life in creating. It's very near to my heart. I am very passionate about it and this time period. It will have weekly updates, and I would love to hear all of your feedback!  
> And shoutout to @Diamond_Raven for all their help and support in my posting process <3
> 
> so lets get into it!

###  **1853**

The rain was relentless in its attack on the small mountain town. A girl no older than sixteen ran through the mud and water, hunched over to protect the precious bundle in her arms. She reached her destination; the largest house in town belonging to the man who owned the nearby mine. She rushed onto the porch and knocked on the door, wiping the water from her eyes.

The door swung open violently revealing a disheveled brute of a man who was well past his prime despite his nice clothes. He scowled at the girl who forced him to open his door. 

“Sir,” she yelled over the deluge. She held out her arms revealing a small face wrapped in drenched blankets. 

“Why are you here?” he growled, “get out of here!”

“He’s yours!” she insisted, urging him to take the baby.

The man just stared at her with confusion and anger.

“You paid for a woman nine months ago, now she’s dead, infection from childbirth…”

“Why can't the rest of you whores take ‘im?!” 

“Madam says it's bad for business sir, ‘e says we can’t have a baby cryin’ while we’re working. She says you need you to take him. I- I wish it were different, for the boy’s sake.”

“I can't take care of a baby!” he hollered. “My wife will kill me!”

“I’m sorry sir…” the girl said as she forced the bundle into his arms and ran off.

“Wait!” he called after her, “ does he even have a goddamn name?!” 

But the rain was too loud, the girl kept on running. The man looked at the nameless baby in his arms with disdain and went back inside.

**~**

**1855**

“Well, what’s his name?”

“Whatever you goddamn please, lady” the man retorted, “he doesn't belong with me or my family.”

“What’s your last name then?”

“Why do you need that, woman?”

“He needs a last name, for the record if anything else,” she said.

“It's Becker then,” he gruffed. 

The orphanage maid looked at the thin two-year-old boy sitting dutifully in a chair against the wall. He sadly looked right at home in the decrepit surroundings of the orphanage. He was humming quietly to himself and twiddling his small thumbs. “We can take him of course- ” she paused, “You haven’t given him a name for two years?” 

“I haven’t cared enough to give it a thought,” The man scowled as he turned out the door. 

The little boy watched as the man stepped out. He got up and hobbled over to the shut door, his thin arms reaching for the handle in a vain attempt to follow his father. 

The maid knelt down next to the boy who had just watched his father walk out on him. His eyes were wide, his cheeks red, and his bottom lip was trembling. “You're gonna stay with us now okay? Not with that awful man anymore,” she tried to use the most comforting voice she owned, even though she knew what awaited him in this building wouldn't be much better than where he came from. In that moment, a crash came from the adjacent room, followed by a shrill shout and a child’s scream. The maid’s heart dropped, but she didn't show it as she looked at the terrified little boy.

The boy nodded with big tears in his eyes.

“Now about a name…” the maid looked around the room for inspiration. Her eyes fell on a dime novel one of the boys had gotten their hands on a while ago, but has since been taken away from them. It was about a real-life outlaw with anything but a real story inside. The title read: “Jim Boy Callahan’s Final Stand” 

“Hey, Jim. You seem like a Jim. how ya like that name?” the maid asked.

The boy looked at her with round, afraid eyes and nodded quietly.

“Okay Jim, follow me, I’ll show you where the boys sleep” she held out her hand.

Jim looked at it with confusion, but after a few moments, he placed his frail hand in hers.


	2. Not Alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking I will be updating this series every Monday and Thursday. It would take wayyy too long to post only once a week, so I guess better for all you right?  
> also there's a little surprise at the end for yall <3

**1861**

“War!” hollered a newsboy, “Civil war! The Confederate army has claimed Fort Sumter! Read President Lincoln's remarks to the Union!”

An eight-year-old Jim paid little attention to the loud newsboy as he shuffled down the street trying to keep a low profile. His eyes flickered to the busy street, where buggies and horses were hastily splashing muddy water onto the curb as their wheels rumbled over the cobblestone street. The less than pleasant smell of manure, cigarette smoke, and many other undesirable things didn't bother Jim, as far as he was concerned that was the way the world smelled. 

There was his target, a fruit stand with shiny red apples ripe for the taking. As he approached the stand, he surveyed all the people around it, and from a safe distance waited for his moment. The grocer turned his back for a brief moment and Jim took his chance. He ran for the stand and grabbed two apples, leaving just as quickly. Nobody saw him. As he was running away his only thought was how thankful he was to be so small and nimble.

He shuffled off the busy street and down a cramped alleyway. His mouth watered as he pulled an apple from his pocket. He took a juicy bite and his cheeks puckered with the sour-sweet taste. The day was waning and color streaked across the Boston sky. He shivered and pulled his threadbare clothes closer to his skin.

“Hey kid!” Someone yelled from the street, instinctively Jim shot up and tried to find the fastest way out of the alley.

“Wait no!” the person the voice belonged to held up their hands, “I ain't here to catch ya, kid. I just want to talk.”

Jim stopped and considered him.

The person in front of him was no more than fourteen, he was a tough build with fiery red hair and a face full of freckles. He had kind eyes, but Jim knew that wasn't cause enough to trust a person on these streets.

“I saw you take those apples from the stand, but the thing was that no one else did,” he said as he slowly walked over to Jim.

“So? I do that all the time!” Jim retorted, still wary of the stranger.

“Yeah, I had a feelin’ you do, but here’s the thing, you ain’t getting the good places. You can't live offa apples every few days for the rest of your life now can ya? Now here’s my thinking, I know how to get the good scores. But I ain't good at thevin’. The only thing I’m good for is a fight.” 

“Okay? Get to the point.” Jim insisted.

The boy scoffed and smiled, “What I mean is you're good at hiding in plain sight, people don't notice you, and I feel like you and I could make a pretty good team.” 

“You and- and me? Like Jim Boy and his sidekick from the little books?” 

“Sure kid”, he laughed “when you’d learn how to read?” 

“I don’t, some of the older kids at the orphanage would read and I would listen,” Jim said.

“Ah,” he nodded, “why ain't you there still?”

“I didn't like it there, alls they ever was were mean to me.”

The boy's eyes sized Jim up and down, “What’s your name kid?”

“Jim,” He answered.

“So, you an admirer of Mr. Callahan, _Jim_?”

“What?” Jim frowned. 

“Nevermind. So what do you say to my offer?” he held out his hand.

Jim considered it for a moment, it _would_ make sense to have someone who could help him out here. He had been on his own for a long as he could remember. “sounds good to me,” he said as he smiled and took his hand.

“Alright, kid. The names Charles, and I gotta good feelin’ bout this.” He smiled. 

**~**

The two boys leaned against a wall, not making eye contact with any of the street goers. Across the street was a tailor’s shop.

“This is the place Jimmy,” Charles said in between puffs of a cigarette, “I've been scoping this place for a few weeks, I even bought something from there a few days ago to build up credibility from the owner.” 

Jim listened intently, mirroring Charles's stance against the wall.

“- of course I didn't keep it. I sold it to some other guy for my money back. But it wasn't about what I bought, it was about showing the guy that I was a payin customer, you got that?"

“Yeah, I got that,” Jim responded, trying to muster as much confidence as possible. 

“Alright, the plan is I’m gonna go distract the tailor and get him out of the store, once he’s out, you go in and grab everything in the register, make sure you go out the back door when you're finished. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Ok kid,” Charles smiled. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away and handed him a satchel, “We’re gonna eat good tonight.”

The pair walked over to the storefront. Charles motioned for Jim to hide behind some crates and he obeyed. Charles then rushed into the store, the little bell over the door ringing as he did. From his hiding spot Jim could hear quite a commotion, Charles sure was convincing, he was yelling something about how his mother had fallen ill suddenly and desperately needed a good man’s help, cause no one else would help him.

A moment later, the two came running out of the store. Charles flashed him a wink on his way out, signaling that everything was clear. Jim waited till they turned the block and then crept inside, careful to not disturb the little bell too much. 

Once inside, Jim paused and gasped. Everything was so beautiful, the wallpaper, the hats adorning the windows, the mini chandelier hanging from the ceiling, even the carpet under his thinly soled shoes was soft and cushy. 

He shook his head, he had to stay focused. He went behind the counter and opened the register, grabbing everything inside and putting it in his satchel. He closed the register and quickly but quietly made his way to the back door. But something caught his eye before he left, a pair of shoes, sitting in a corner that hadn't been touched in forever. They looked like they would fit Charles, and surely wouldn't be noticed if they were taken…

Jim stepped out of the store with a full bag. From there he started for the meeting place.

**~**

Charles came jogging around the corner of the alleyway. Jim stood up to greet him, bag in hand. Charles’s face lit up once he saw the full satchel.

“What’s the haul Jimmy?” he asked.

Jim opened the bag with a big grin on his face, stacks of bills and coins were filled to the brim. 

Charles let out a holler of joy. He put his arm around Jim and shook him with excitement. “We won’t have to worry about eating for weeks kid!” he let out a satisfied sigh, “you did good.”

“There’s something else too,” Jim said. He turned around and picked up the pair of shoes he had snatched. Holding them out to Charles, he said, “I thought you might need them.”

Charles stared at Jim for a moment, his mouth slightly open. His eyes went to the shoes and he took them.

Suddenly Jim was worried that he had something wrong, “Charles? I didn't mean to- we- we can put them back-”

“No, no kid, it ain't like that, it's just-” he paused, “I think that this is the first time that anyone had ‘thought’ about me before… I've just been at it alone for as long as I can remember.”

Jim smiled and said, “well you're not alone anymore.”

Charles returned his smile and said, “yeah, and you ain't either.”


	3. Dreams for the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Charles decide to take control of their future
> 
> Song: "Will James", by Don Edwards

**1865**

“Hey, you rat! Come back here and let’s finish this!” 

Jim turned around to the thug who was harassing him. The guy had accused Jim of stealing after betting on a fight Charles had won. Which Jim hadn't, not this time at least. For the past months Charles had taken to street fighting to make money, and today this man wasn't happy about him winning. “I didn't steal your money! It was a fair bet, leave me alone!” The brute was a few inches taller than Jim, who despite being fairly tall for being thirteen, was still pretty scrawny. But Jim stared him down anyways, “back off,” he said.

“Or what?” the thug laughed “You gonna fight me?”

“No, but I will,” Charles’s voice came from down the alley.

Jim grinned. This guy was screwed.

“Stay away from my brother,” Charles said as he squared up. He was about the same height as the guy but built better for a fight, despite his recent injuries from his last match. “I’ll fight you like the last guy.” 

The thug looked at both of them and scoffed, “you ain't brothers, you look nothing alike.”

“Blood has nothing to do with it. Are you gonna step down?” 

The man cracked his knuckles and scowled, “Not without my money.”

Charles popped his neck and said, “so be it.”

The thug threw a punch, which was promptly dodged by Charles. Without hesitation, Charles threw an uppercut straight into the thug's jaw. He staggered back and grabbed his mouth, assessing the damage. He grimaced and clumsily threw himself at Charles. Charles saw it coming and kicked him off his feet. The guy landed on the ground with a thud.

Charles rolled his shoulders and looked down at the thug who was groaning on the ground. “Don't mess with my brother,” he said. The two walked off down the alleyway together.

“How much ya get off him?” Charles said to Jim as they sauntered off. He rubbed his jaw with a pained grimace. These past months of fighting for money had taken its toll on him, he tried to not show it but Jim saw how much it hurt him to do those fights. Despite it being a fairly reliable way to make money, Jim wasn't sure how much more Charles could take before it killed him. 

“At least forty,” Jim smiled, patting his pocket with pride.

Charles grinned and nodded with satisfaction, “he deserved it after accusing you of thevin’ after a fair fight. What's for dinner tonight, then?” He said keeping pace with Jim. 

“Well, I was thinking the first course could be tea from the furthest reaches of China…” Jim started, making a grand wave of his hand.

“Oh yeah? What's for the second?” Charles chuckled.

“I’ll ask my very close friend from Italy and we can try some- oh what’s it called? spaghetti.”

“And for dessert?”

“Chocolate cake,” Jim said as he chefkissed his fingertips.

“Oh yeah? Where's that from?” Charles asked as his brow raised, “India? Peru?”

“Good ol' Boston is where it's from,” Jim replied.

"Boy, I can't wait. Will we have any entertainment to go with such a meal?”

“Only the best exotic dancers, they're the ones from India.”

“What a night,” Charles said as they turned a corner. They handed a few coins to a grocer running a stand on the side of the street, taking two loaves of bread in return. They traveled a few blocks down to an abandoned building they had found about a year ago. All the entrances were blocked, but Charles and Jim found a way onto the roof no one else had. This was where the two had laid their heads at night, it was the closest thing they had to a home. The place was adorned with what the boys found enjoyable or useful, a shelter was made from crates and wood planks to keep the weather off of them when they needed it, but most nights they slept under the sky. 

Jim crawled carefully onto the roof and plopped down onto some of the blankets. He pulled out the bread from his satchel and took a bite. Charles soon followed. 

“This is the best spaghetti I've ever had Jimmy, good choice,” Charles said through a mouthful.

Jim grinned and scoffed. They ate their bread in silence as they looked over the brightening city lights and the darkening sky overhead. 

From where he was sitting, Jim could sometimes see into the windows of the neighborhood close to them. Tonight he saw the family with one son around the dinner table. It was full of fancy food and fancy people. Servants were standing around the perfect family waiting on their every need. The son looked unbearably bored. He was picking at the food on his plate with disgust. Jim glanced down at what was left of his bread and then focused on the family again. The son was rolling around in his seat, obviously complaining about something. Jim, not for the first time, felt a pang of jealousy and contempt towards them. What did he have to complain about? What was so bad in his perfect pampered life that he felt he had to complain about it? He had everything he could ever ask for, and probably always would. He had parents who didn't abandon him. Why couldn't Jim be loved like this boy? This boy would never know how good his life is. The mother talked with him for a few seconds, but soon gave up and waved for a servant to take the food away. Jim watched as the almost full plate of food was taken back into the kitchen to be thrown away.

“Hey Jimmy,” Charles said, obviously aware of what was going through Jim's head, “you want to practice some readin’?”

Jim looked away from the scene and stuffed the last bite in his mouth. His eyes fell to Charles and he realized just then the toll today's fight had taken on him. Charles had a fresh split lip, and what looked like the beginnings of a bad black eye. Jim hated how this was their life. He hated how Charles had to put himself in so much danger just so they could eat. He hated the feeling that Charles was doing all this for him. Jim was sure one of these days a fight would go bad and Charles wouldn't get back up again.

“Charlie… I'm worried about you fighting, I mean, what if you get hurt, like bad?” Jim said.

“Really like I've said, it ain't a big deal, I'm fine really,” Charles said through a dismissive laugh.

“But everytime you come back more and more hurt, I'm just worried one day-”

“- it will never come to that Jim,” he insisted. “All the shopkeeps know us, there ain't no way we're gonna find an honest job around here.”

Jim sighed, each day he felt more and more trapped by this city. He reluctantly nodded his head.

Charles reached over to where they kept all their reading materials they found over time. He rummaged through the newspapers and decrepit books until he found what he was looking for “Here we go,” he said triumphantly, “How about some adventures of the infamous Jim Boy Callahan and his gang of ruffians?” 

Jim nodded, “where were we again?”

“I believe it was right after he escaped the hanging” Charles said as he flipped through the pages, “Why don't you start?”

Jim took the book from him and cleared his throat. His reading had improved greatly over the past year. Once Jim took up with Charles, they had always tried to read together, it was a form of escapism. The two didn't always have to be Boston street rats, they could be hands on a whaling ship with a vengeful captain, a fellow intellectual with Plato, a famous outlaw, or whatever the hell they wanted to be as long as they had a book. 

Right as Jim got to the part where Callahan escapes on a train, Charles interrupted him,

“What if we were to escape on a train?” he said.

Jim looked up from the book and frowned in confusion, “What?”

“I mean, we don't have to be stuck on these streets our whole lives” He began, “We could- I don't know, join the railroad, make a name for ourselves out West, we are in America after all.” his hand absentmindedly found the back of his head where he had suffered a blow a few days ago.

“You really think we could just leave?” Jim asked.

“What’s keeping us here?” 

Jim thought, still a little apprehensive. 

“I guess so,” Jim said, he thought it might be a good change from the winters that ravaged the city.

“Yeah ya see?” Charles gestured in approval, “next time we see those railroad recruiters, let's sign up, let’s do something with our lives.” 

Jim turned and looked at the rich house's window. The lights were dim, but he could see a warm fire going on in the room next to it. He pulled his threadbare clothes closer to his skin.

“We could live like them someday,” Charles said.

“I don't think they started out as petty thieves, Charlie.”

“Well maybe not petty ones, but I'm sure it's impossible to have that much money and _not_ have stolen any.” he assured, “and we’re good at thevin’- or at least you are”

“I guess as long as we’re together...” Jim said.

“So we’re doin’ this?” Charles asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” Jim nodded, “we’re doin’ this.” 

Charles hollered with joy, grabbing Jim into a rough side hug. Jim embraced it and laughed. That night he could hardly sleep with all the exciting thoughts of the future whirling through his head. 


	4. The Reality of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Charles learn that the railroad might have not had the future they were hoping for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post a sketch of a twenty year old Charles  
> enjoy lmao

### 

###  **1867**

“You've both been laid off.”

Jim took the slip of paper from the foreman and read it's depressing statement. “Why?” he pushed, “Were just as good at hammerin’ nails into the dirt as them freedmen!”

“Yeah but we have to pay you a lot more than them, and to be frank, I ain't seen anyone work as efficient as them do,” the foreman said lazily as he turned around, “Look this is all orders from Durant, don't blame me, he's got some serious money troubles right now.”

Jim huffed in anger, it wasn't fair, it seemed all his life was controlled by people with more money than him. He took a step towards the foreman but was restrained by a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave ‘im, Jim, it ain’t his fault,” Charles said, “He's just doin’ his job.”

“But what about us? What are we gonna do?” Jim said as he wiped sweat from his forehead and turned to face his friend. It hit him then how much Charles had aged, while he was only twenty, his life had worn him down both physically and mentally. It was sometimes hard to believe he was the same person he had met in the alley. Working the railroad had brought a reliable source of money, but lacked meaning. Each day was monotonous, as well as death defying and difficult. For there wasn't a lack of Indian attacks, and disease among other things. Each day Charles seemed to grow more away from himself. He was quieter and preferred to be alone more often than not. Jim noticed this new kind of introversion creep up in his oldest friend especially after one brutal Indian attack against the workers. Charles had swept in and saved Jim’s life from one of the savages. Despite having run out of bullets of his own, he still prevailed over the attacker by shoving an arrow through his eye straight to his brain. Jim still recoiled at the memory of the incident. It was something he never thought Charles was capable of, even if it was in defence.

The railroad had changed them both, and not in the way they were hoping.

Jim didn't like the idea of selling himself to a big corporation just to get by, especially one so steeped in corruption. A small part of him was relieved he didn't have to stay in this job, and he could tell Charles shared that sentiment. But now the same old problem crept back into their lives, the same one they had been struggling against since they were born; where would they get their next meal?

“Maybe we’ll make shoes,” Charles sighed.

Jim crossed his arms and sighed too, “At least they told us near a town.”

Charles grunted in agreement and started to gather his things from their tent. “Come on Jimmy, get the horse. Let’s go see ourselves some civilized folk.” 

**~**

The saloon, a store, and the bank were about the only real establishments standing in the Rocky Mountain town of Independence. The few remaining structures were canvas tents, standing like stoic, indifferent ghosts as their flaps moved with the slight wind. The two stood there looking down the muddy street, which was darkening quickly as the mountains engulfed the town in early nightfall with their shadows. Jim shivered as an ominous, cold breeze swept through the only street. Despite it being late spring, the nights still plunged to freezing this deep in the mountains. 

“We’re a long way from Boston,” Charles remarked.

“Yeah but I like it out here, it feels more real than a big city,” Jim said.

Charles looked at the saloon, “let’s get a drink.”

The double doors swung open revealing the typical bar scene, drunks laying here and there, and a game of poker being played at one of the tables. The piano man played an upbeat tune.

Charles ordered a shot of whiskey for both of them and tossed some coins at the bartender. They clinked their glasses and drank, Jim grimaced at the strong taste as the alcohol slid down his throat. Charles’s face, however, didn’t waver. This past year Jim couldn't help but notice he had a bottle in his hand more and more often. 

“I guess we should start to look for some kind of work in this town soon then,” Jim said.

Charles didn't reply, his gaze was on a couple sitting nearby. They were happily in each other's arms and sipping something together. He didn't say or do anything except stare for a long moment.

“You still there?” Jim said as he leaned into Charles’s view.

“Hmm?” he blinked and looked at Jim.

“Yer gawkin' like a nun in a brothel at that couple over there, What ya thinkin' ‘bout?”

A few moments passed, “You ever wanna be married, Jim?” Charles asked.

“What?” 

“You know, like start a family, never have to worry about the whether or when your next meal is coming from, get a good-paying job and come home to a warm house and a lovin' wife?” 

“...I don't know,” Jim said as he frowned, this sudden look into Charles’s feelings made Jim uncomfortable. It was very seldom he heard anything this intimate from him. “I figure I’m happy enough for now, I haven't really thought much about it much to be honest.”

“I have.”

Jim was silent as he waited for him to continue. He wasn’t sure how to respond to him. 

“I’m getting to the age where I can either make somethin' of myself or not,” Charles said, “and the way my life’s been goin… well- it's leaning more towards the latter, to be honest.”

Jim frowned, “Why’s that?”

Charles rolled his eyes, “Think about it Jim, I’m the perfect age for marrying, but the only thing I have to show for in my life is a record of petty theft and two years of railroad work. What girl would want to settle down with me? I’m just a lowlife, a nobody, _a killer_ ” Charles said, adding the last part under his breath.

“Well I’m sure-”

“And to top it off I have to look out for you too.”

Jim frowned, “ _What?_ ”

He paused and looked at Jim, “did you really think we’d be running together for the resta our lives? That we would always be thevin' to survive, Nothing would ever change, we wouldn't ever get separated, injured, or move on?”

Jim glared at him with a hurting heart, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well you have to grow up someday, don't you?” 

“That doesn't mean we have to change!” Jim slammed his fist on the bar. 

“We have to move on eventually! I want a family someday, I want to be more than this, Jimmy. And I ain’t doin’ that living this kind of life!” Charles shouted.

“That’s not true! If- if you really want a woman just go pay for one and get it out of your system!”

“It ain’t like that and you know it!” Charles said pointing a mean finger at Jim.

Jim's face burned, tears threatened to spill over his cheeks. “When did I become just- just something to look after? Someone to get rid of?” Jim demanded.

Jim’s words were almost tangible as they hung in the air. Charles opened his mouth but no words came out, he just stared at Jim.

“You know what? Maybe I’ll just leave on my own terms, spare you the pain of askin’!” Jim yelled as he glared at him, waiting for his explanation. When nothing came, Jim grabbed his bag and stormed out of the saloon, ignoring Charles' s protests to come back.

Jim was accosted by the freezing air as he stormed out the door. He walked down the street, not caring where he was going as his breath trailed behind him. His thoughts and emotions were running rampant. He never figured that anything would change between them, he figured when they decided to go out west and make a better life for themselves, it would be together. Where did this talk of moving on come from? Why would they ever move on? Jim already had all the family he needed, why didn't Charles?

Without realizing it, Jim had stepped foot into the general store across the way while he was lost in his thoughts. The ringing of the little bell above the door brought him back to reality.

“What you doing here? Were closed for the night, boy,” a booming voice said from behind the counter.

Jim looked up at the owner of the voice and his puffy eyes widened in surprise. The man was huge, he had to have been from a lost race of giants, that would’ve been the only reasonable explanation for his size.

“I said, what are you doin’ in here boy?” the man demanded.

Jim blinked a few times trying to figure out for himself why he was here. “I- um…” he started.

“You're actin’ mighty suspicious boy if you don't tell me why you're here right now-”

“Work!” Jim shouted, “Do you have any work I can do?” he said, relieved he had said something somewhat reasonable.

The shopkeeper glared at him, “No.”

“Is there any work in this town at all?”

“None. You best be movin’ on to the next if you want to find a job,” the man scowled. “Don't let me catch you lookin’ suspicious here again, you got that?”

Jim sighed, “Sir, yes sir,” he said with a half-assed salute. With that, he turned out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and on that depressing note, here's a fun fact about Thomas Durant (the owner of Credit Mobilier and the Union Pacific railroad at the this time). He was so corrupt and did so many illegal schemes for money that he basically single handedly caused the first major stock market crash and economic depression in the United States.  
> so there's that lol


	5. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles tries to reconcile with his oldest friend

Jim woke up from his makeshift camp on the outskirts of town. The morning mountain chill stuck to his skin. His eyes focused on the pinkish orange river of sky swirling through the pine trees overhead as the sun peeked over the sloped horizon. He sat up. He had decided to spend the night away from Charles and let them both cool down. He didn't doubt that Charles would be able to find him here, the town was so small all he had to do was ask around. He never liked being alone, but he wasn't too keen on seeing Charles soon.

Jim stretched and stood up, running a hand through his hair. He went over to his horse and fed her some oats, patting her rough hide and talking to her while he did. She was nothing more than a cheap work pony, one the railroad had decided to leave behind once she became a burden, Jim wouldn't have it. He started to take care of her, he didn't want her to be left behind to fend for herself. Watching his horse eat, however, made his stomach hungry for breakfast too. He pulled out what was left of his last payroll and sighed. He counted barely over two dollars, just enough to feed him alone for about two or three days, he could maybe stretch it out to a week if he were really sparse. They would have to do something quick about the money situation. 

He squatted down in front of the dying embers and threw some more tinder on them. Once the fire was back to a reasonable roar, Jim pulled out a book from his bag, one of the few that had survived the two years working the railroad. He had read it many times but cracked it open regardless. 

**~**

A few chapters later, Jim was startled by the crunch of footsteps on the forest floor, but his fear soon subsided as he recognized the gait of who was approaching the camp. Folding the page he was on, he shut his book and stood up to look at Charles with a less than welcoming expression. “You really think I want to see you right now? Why aren't you off looking for a wife somewhere?” Jim spat as he clenched his fists and glared daggers. 

Charles walked up to Jim sheepishly. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. He hung his head. He didn’t look his best, there were bags under his eyes, and his hair was disheveled. 

“I’m real sorry Jimmy,” he said. “I shouldn't have said those things, I- I was wrong, I-” Charles paused trying to find the right words, “What I mean is that you are my family, no one can or will replace you.” he articulated his words carefully, he wasn’t very well versed in apologies.

Jim was silent. He looked down at his worn boots and moved the earth around underneath them. He wasn't sure he was expecting a full-on apology straight from the gate from Charles. Usually part of the blame went to Jim, or some part of it wasn't Charles’s fault. Rarely ever was it his fault and his fault alone. 

But before last night, Jim never heard that kind of cruel sentiment come from Charles. Charles had very rarely ever voiced his inner-most thoughts. That sudden outburst from him made Jim wonder how long he had actually considered him a burden. 

“Why would you say those things to me Charlie?” Jim said.

“I-I haven't been thinking straight lately.”

Jim looked up at him, his angry expression melting into a soft sadness. What Charles had said cut him like a knife, but he didn't want to stay angry at his only friend. He was Jim’s only family, the only person he could rely on.

“Do you really want to leave me?” 

“N-no, of course not, I’m an idiot Jim, I shouldn't have said those things. D-do you really wanna leave me?”

Jim was quiet for a moment before softly saying, “no, I don't.”

Charles let out something close to a small relieved laugh. “That's- ah, that's good then.” 

“You really are an idiot,” he said as he through a small smile. However it was only surface deep. He loved Charles, but the events of yesterday would never leave him. 

Charles grinned and exhaled in relief, realizing he was forgiven, “I swear you have given me one too many chances.”

“Well I don't have much of a choice, you're the one with the rest of the money anyway,” Jim said. 

Charles looked away and scratched the side of his head. “Ah well you see I _did_ have the rest of the money…”

Jim’s face fell, “What happened?”

“After you left I decided to sit at the poker table,” he started, avoiding Jim's gaze, “and while I did lose a lot of the money, I won this,” Charles reached for his bag and revealed a Colt Navy handgun. “I think after everything you should have it.”

Jim stepped over to Charles and took the revolver. It was cold and weighed down his hands. Someone had taken good care of this gun, it had fancy engravings and it was in excellent condition. It could be sold for a lot of money. 

“Charles, this is amazing, but we could make enough money off this thing to go to the next town,” Jim said as he examined the gun.

“No- I want you to keep this. We’ll find a way to make money like we always did. This is a gift.”

“Well I guess I could always use it on you if you start actin’ up again,” Jim smiled.

“And I give you permission to,” Charles laughed.

Jim aimed the gun and looked down the sights, it was unloaded but he clicked the hammer back and pulled the trigger anyway, pretending to hit something square in the chest.

“Now I would suggest you keep that tucked in your belt, under your shirt and out of sight, apparently it's a famous gun around here. I’m pretty sure I won it offa the saloon owner's son, and he weren't too happy about it, they kicked me out after I got it.”

“So it's probably best we stay away from there then,” Jim said.

“I was thinking we could hit the general store before we high tail this town,” Charles suggested.

“I don't think so, I ran into the man who runs the place and he is not to be crossed, he already suspects me of unsavory business.”

“Well, it's not like only two people can rob a whole bank, no matter how small a town it's in. And I can't show my face in that saloon again, I promise you that.”

“I still don't know Charlie, you didn't see that guy, he was huge and angry.”

“He doesn't know my face, we can do our same thing we always do, I can run in, distract him and you rob him blind,” Charles said.

“I still don't know, I got a bad feelin’ about this,” Jim said.

“It will be ok, just like we always do.” He insisted.

“Okay, if you think so…”

Charles patted him on the back, “We're gonna be okay, I promise you that.”

Jim nodded but inside he still felt unconvinced, “Alright then.”


	6. Disillusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Charles fall back into their old ways

The two leaned against the building adjacent to the general store. It was an overcast day with the promise of spring rain rumbling in the sky. A few of the residents of the town gave them dirty looks as they passed by. 

Charles scowled back at a few of them, “Jesus it's not like we’re robbin’ them,” he said to Jim. 

Jim could feel the cold metal frame of the revolver sticking into his bare skin as he leaned into the side of the building. He had been sure to flick the safety on before shoving it into his belt.

A small group of the people who were glaring at the pair had now begun to congregate around one person. They were talking and a few pointed at Jim and Charles.

“Uh oh,” Charles said, “I’m pretty sure that's the guy who lost the gun to me in the middle of those people over there.”

“Well, what are we gonna do? They’re coming right at us,” Jim whispered.

“Just leave it to me,” Charles said as he stepped towards the men. “Hello boys! What can I do for y'all today? You seem to be awful interested in me and my friend here.” He frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest as a way of subtly showing off his biceps.

“I’m John Roberts and you're that pathetic drunk from the night before who stole my father's gun!” the leader said with a mean finger pointed at Charles.

“Why Johnny, I couldn't stand to think of you bein’ angry with me, with us being so close and all. Besides, I wasn't the one who bet my father’s gun on bad odds, this ain't between us, it's between you and your old man now.”

The man- John Roberts huffed in anger and walked right up to Charles. “Now you see here, my father basically runs this town, he owns the saloon and the store-”

“What an achievement,” Charles smiled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You're going to give that gun back or you'll be in big trouble,” the man growled.

“Ain't that a daisy Jim?" Charles said as he leaned toward Jim and laughed, all the while keeping his eye on Roberts. "He musta lost his rudder if he thinks I would be threatened by him, this'll be easy then." He straightened out and looked down once again on the man. "Now, seeing how it was  _ my  _ gun and I could do with it what I pleased, I figured I needed the money I could make off it more than the actual gun. I sold it to one of the railroad workers down the road. Maybe you should think before you gamble something that ain't your's, friend,” Charles smirked.

Roberts panicked.“Who’d you sell it to?!”

Charles put a knowing finger in the air, “I’m pretty sure it was the foreman, you and your posse should be able to catch them before they move on.”

John Roberts glared at Charles and seized him up. Jim was pretty sure he was debating whether or not to throw a punch at him.

“Run along now,” Charles said, straightening his back and looking down on Mr. Roberts.

Roberts frowned and abstained from throwing a punch Charles’s way. He stepped down and muttered curses under his breath as he stormed off.

“Back to business,” Charles said through a frown as he leaned back against the building.

**~**

“Remember to play to his personality, I’m sure he ain't the kind of person to care whether someone has suddenly fallen ill,” Jim told Charles as they walked over to the storefront, but still out of view from anyone inside. 

“Yeah yeah, I won’t tell you how to do your job,” Charles said.

“I’m just saying he’s gonna be different than the city folk, and we ain't done this in a few years.” Jim said, “you gotta play it a little different this time.”

Jim peeled off to get in hiding, “See you at camp,” he whispered.

Charles gave him a two-finger salute in response and stepped in the store.

Jim listened to Charles work his magic, at first, it didn't seem like the man would fall for it, but soon after Charles came running out with the big man following him. 

Once the grocer stepped out of his store, he surveyed the area. Jim’s heart leaped into his throat for a second because he was sure the man had seen him. But the man just continued to follow Charles, and Jim breathed a sigh of relief.

Jim snuck inside and fell into his routine, but this time he was sure to not leave any clues behind that would give them away too soon. But as soon as he got to the register the front door swung open violently.

“I knew it!” the huge man bellowed, “You think you can come here, rob my store!? I’ll get you for this!”

Jim's eyes went wide, his jaw dropped and he fumbled for the gun in his belt, but it was too late, the man took two strides and grabbed Jim by his hair, causing him to cry out in pain. Jim struggled as much as he could as the man wrapped his arm around him in a chokehold. He kicked, scratched and bit the man but nothing could loosen his grip.

“Charles!” he managed to scream, “Charles help!”

The little bell rang as Charles burst through the door, he saw the man’s hold on Jim and charged towards him. But the man anticipated his move and kicked Charles square in the chest. Charles fell back, barely able to breathe. 

Jim was stuck in the man’s grip as he walked over to where Charles was on the floor and kicked him in the head until he was unconscious, or maybe even dead, Jim couldn't tell. Charles’s blood started to pool on the floorboards, and Jim gave everything he had to try to get to him, screaming his name all the while; crying out to his motionless body. But the man was too strong. The next thing Jim knew was the feeling of a meaty fist pounding his skull, then nothing but black.


	7. Bad Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim must find a way to survive on his own once again

Jim woke up with a pounding headache and something hard and metal jabbing into his back. He was being jostled around in his seat. The sound of horses and rolling wheels filled the air. His eyes focused on the cage around him. Rain just started to drizzle through the bars, causing him to blink. He sat up and realized he was in a prison wagon, being rolled off to God knows where.

Then everything hit him. His heart raced as he looked around for Charles, but of course, he was alone save for the driver.

Alone. He was truly alone for the first time in six years, he didn't know where he was, or where Charles was. He didn't know if he would see Charlie again, or if he was even still alive. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew it probably wasn't good. 

Jim pulled his knees up to his chest and let out a sob. The air was cold and the rain was picking up. He began to shiver. The cold nickel of the gun tucked inside his belt became even colder. Jim frantically pulled it out and examined it, it was all working. But what caught his attention was how it was still loaded. 

Jim's eyes slowly went to the driver, the man didn't know he was awake, he didn't know he had a gun. The keys on his belt were within arms reach, but there was no way he could snatch them if the driver was alive…

No. He couldn't do that. What would Charles think of him if he did? This man was just doing his job. He didn't deserve to have his brains blown out. 

Jim slumped against the bars and sighed. The rain was raging now. He wiped the water from his eyes, and something caught his attention: the lock on the cage door. Jim didn't have to kill a man to escape, he could shoot the lock. He would have to be quick, but no one would be able to track him in the rain. 

Jim clicked the hammer back and aimed. He pulled the trigger and the lock exploded with a bang. his ears rang, but he didn’t waste any time leaping out the back of the wagon and running off into the drenched forest.

**~**

Jim stumbled over the bridge of a babbling brook into the next town. He had been wandering in the woods for three days. He didn't know where to go, or what to do. His head spun looking down the busy street and his stomach screamed for something to eat. 

He decided in his exhaustion to sit down against the side of a building. He looked around in search of some way to find some food, but something caught his eye hanging on a signpost a few yards away. It was a wanted sign. It read;

WANTED ALIVE

$50 REWARD

JIM BECKER

FOR ROBBERY AND ESCAPING ARREST

LAST SEEN BETWEEN THE TOWNS OF INDEPENDENCE AND BLACKBROOKS

IS SAID TO BE AN EX RAILROAD WORKER WITH A SCRAWNY BUILD AND DARK HAIR

Jim’s eyes widened and he glanced around to make sure no one was after him. But his fears subsided as he realized the wanted poster didn't have any pictures of him on it. It just had a description that could match any number of people. As long as no one found out his true name, he should be okay. But frowned as he looked at the poster, it struck him odd that they knew his full name. There was no else besides Charles who knew it.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Wishing not for the first time that he was here. His body ached from exhaustion, and he must have dozed off to the gentle sound of the giggling brook because the next thing he knew someone was shaking his shoulder gently.

Jim opened his eyes to late afternoon light and a man dressed like a reverend standing in front of him. 

“Are you okay son?” he asked in a kind voice. “You look like you've been through hell and back.”

Jim straightened and tried to come up with a good lie for his appearance, “I-umm,” he started.

“It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything.”

Jim relaxed a bit.

“Do you have a home or anyone to go to?” the reverend asked.

Jim sighed and shook his head.

“You can come to stay in the church until you feel better,” he offered.

Relief flooded through Jim, “Thank you, sir, I- I don't know what to say.”

“Just your name, I don't need anything else,” he smiled, “my name’s Reverend Joseph.”

Jim hesitated and resisted the urge to glance at the wanted poster. “My name is-” he started.

The pastor looked at him with patient eyes.

“-it’s Robert,” he said, thinking of the first name that came to mind. The sound of the babbling brook made its way to his ears, “Robert- Brooks.”

The reverend smiled, “okay Robert follow me, I’ll show you where you don't have to sleep on the ground anymore,” he said as he extended his hand to help him up.

Robert took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of part one of The Brooks Story! Thanks for indulging me lol. Although I promise the story is just getting started ;)


End file.
